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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032672">melt in your mouth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/pseuds/mikharlow'>mikharlow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baking, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Valentine's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/pseuds/mikharlow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitsuki likes someone, and Yamato isn't optimistic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Izumi Mitsuki/Nikaidou Yamato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>melt in your mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this one's a month late!!! happy birthday to both of these guys, you can kiss now</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a lot about Mitsuki that Yamato liked. One of them was his smile. Mitsuki had one of those smiles that made you want to smile back. Even without words he could make you happier by simply being there. Maybe that's what made being around him so addictive – being around him gave Yamato a greater buzz than any cheap beer he could buy.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that's what made Yamato fall in love with him.</p><p> </p><p>And maybe that's why Yamato had unconsciously sought him out, his hand reaching up to knock on his door without realising fully what he was doing. He held a pack of beer in his other hand, not unusual for him. He supposed he was looking to get lucky – not in that sense, yet still not far off. Sometimes, when he and Mitsuki were both just a little too drunk, Mitsuki would rest his head on Yamato's shoulder, or wouldn't complain if Yamato did the same. Once or twice he'd even woken up sharing a blanket with him. Small things, that meant nothing, but meant so much to Yamato, who knew he couldn't find that same honest affection from Mitsuki elsewhere. So he hid behind the plausible deniability of beer, and beat down the feelings that lingered afterwards.</p><p> </p><p>Except, Mitsuki didn't answer the door. Nobody did. Yamato had checked his schedule, and it was as clear as his own for that night, so it was strange for him to not be in his room. Although, he thought, there was somewhere else Mitsuki could be found.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, as Yamato opened the door to the dorm living area, he was hit with the sweet familiar scent of baking, and there Mitsuki was, apron on, busying himself around the kitchen.. He looked up to see who had come in, and smiled when he saw Yamato's face.</p><p> </p><p>"Yamato-san!" He called out with a wide grin.</p><p> </p><p>Yamato smiled back (how could he not) and let the door close behind him, wandering over to the kitchen. "You look busy." he said.</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki slipped off his oven mitts and leaned over the counter, folding his arms casually. "Well, yeah. It's the big day soon, isn't it?" Mitsuki replied. "I've been working hard for you." he said with a wink, earning a grand blush from Yamato.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re awful.” he muttered, as Mitsuki grinned devilishly. “You’re becoming more like me every day. What will Ichi say…?” he said with a sigh, playing up his act to distract from how embarrassed he actually felt. </p><p> </p><p>It seemed to work, as Mitsuki gave a laugh and nodded to the stools by the counter. “C’mon, take a seat and bother me while I finish these. It’ll keep me company.”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato obeyed, hopping up onto the center stool as Mitsuki returned to his baking. He watched Mitsuki pick up a whisk and glance around for something he seemed to have misplaced. “What’re you making?” he asked, as Mitsuki crouched down to open a cupboard.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I just made your cake batter, and that’s in the oven now.” He stood up again, apparently not having found what he was looking for. He frowned, hands on his hips. “I’m about to start the buttercream icing, but I can’t find the icing sugar.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s in the top cupboard, I think.” Yamato nodded to the cupboard he meant. “Tama used it yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki’s frown turned confused. “What was he-- actually, I think I’m better off not knowing.” He turned to the cupboard and, sure enough, there it was -- top shelf, Yamato noted. He then noticed Mitsuki’s hesitation, and had to stifle a laugh. He hadn’t said a word, but Yamato didn’t need words to understand the situation.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong, Mitsu?” said Yamato, a teasing lilt to his voice. “It’s right there.”</p><p> </p><p>If it were a visual novel, he’d have seen the indication on his screen that he just made a bad dialogue choice. Mitsuki shot him a look over his shoulder, so venomous that Yamato shrank back a little out of fear. Still, he smirked, and slid off his chair, sighing. “Guess Oniisan’s got to give you a hand, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can do it myself.” Mitsuki growled.</p><p> </p><p>“No, let me.” Yamato walked up behind him and, without warning, wrapped his arms around Mitsuki’s waist and hoisted him into the air.</p><p> </p><p>“Wh--?! Yamato-san!!” he cried, feet kicking out as he struggled against Yamato’s grip, but Yamato wasn’t willing to let go.</p><p> </p><p>“Go on, grab it, before my legs give out.” said Yamato, still laughing as he carried Mitsuki to within reach of the bag of sugar.</p><p> </p><p>With an angry huff, Mitsuki reluctantly reached out, and pulled the bag off the shelf. Once Yamato saw that he had it, he lowered him back down to the ground and put enough distance between them that he wouldn’t be in immediate punching range. “See? Look at how helpful I am.”</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki glared at him, his grip on the icing sugar tight. “I hate you.”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato stuck his tongue out cheekily, before hurrying back to his seat for protection. “I was only being nice! This is the treatment I get?”</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki continued his glare for a few seconds longer, before he turned and set the bag on the counter and pulled a bowl towards him. “You’re insufferable.” he sighed, but when he turned around again, Yamato could see he was smiling. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re adorable.” he said, without really thinking.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have time to regret it before he had a handful of icing sugar thrown at his face.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>A couple of hours later, Yamato returned to his room, beer still untouched but feeling very warm from mirth. It was that flushed kind of happiness again, the type that came hand in hand with time spent with Mitsuki. He didn’t even care about how late it was. In fact, when he turned off the lights and climbed into bed, sleep was the last thing on his mind. The forefront of his thoughts were occupied by chocolate-smeared cheeks dusted with freckles and icing sugar, and a laugh as sweet as buttercream. He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he tugged the covers up over his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki had chased him out of the kitchen when it was time to actually decorate the cake (he didn’t want Yamato to be completely unsurprised, even if Yamato didn’t like surprises) and Yamato had left, not without protest. Honestly, Yamato didn’t care that much about the cake itself, although he would eat anything Mitsuki made. He just wanted to hang out with him a little longer. But Mitsuki is more stubborn that anything, so Yamato had let him be.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The next day, the usual traditions of the morning of February 14th went just as expected; in the morning, he pulled himself out of his bed and headed to the breakfast table, where he was ambushed with party poppers the moment he set foot into the room. Soon after, he had been crushed in a group hug, where he put up his usual grumbling act, but smiling all the same. He ate breakfast with everyone, discussing their plans for Yamato’s birthday celebrations after their Valentines Live later that day, and soon everyone left to get prepared for the live show.</p><p> </p><p>Yamato stayed behind in the kitchen area, of course, picking up confetti from the party poppers from the floor in a small effort to clean up. Yes, it was his birthday, but who was Yamato if he didn’t always take care of the little things?</p><p> </p><p>“Ya~mato-sa~n.” came a voice, laced with irritation, but not cruel. </p><p> </p><p>Yamato looked up to see Mitsuki, standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He was giving him a look that Yamato knew all too well. He quickly scooped the rest of the paper into his hand and stood up from the floor, heading to the trash can to dispose of them. “I know, I know.” he said. “I should be letting everyone else spoil me, not cleaning up after them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why aren’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Yamato chuckled. “I just don’t really work like that, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>When Yamato started picking up the dirty plates from the table, Mitsuki came over and started to help him out, trying to do it fast enough so that there wasn’t any left for Yamato to take care of. “For all you complain, you really are stubborn, huh.” Mitsuki helped Yamato carry the plates to the kitchen sink. “At times like this, you really won’t listen to what anyone tells you to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d listen to what you tell me to do.” Yamato said, and he meant it, but Mitsuki only laughed, nudging him with his elbow.</p><p> </p><p>“Then, if I told you to go get ready to leave and let me handle the dishes, would you?” </p><p> </p><p>“I guess I have no choice, then.” Yamato ruffled Mitsuki’s hair, earning from him a disgruntled noise, and went to follow his orders, but stopped when he saw something on the kitchen counter. It was a baking tray, with a silicone mold sitting on it, filled with what looked like... chocolates. Valentine’s chocolates, obviously. Mitsuki, realising Yamato had stopped walking, turned around to scold him, but stopped dead as he followed Yamato’s line of sight and realised what he was looking at.</p><p> </p><p>Yamato’s eyes went back to Mitsuki, who was-- blushing. A lot. Mitsuki blushed ferociously, spreading across his cheeks up to the tips of his ears, and he looked absolutely mortified. </p><p> </p><p>Letting out an interesting sort of squeak, he lunged over and covered the chocolates with a tea towel he snatched off the wall. "Ahaha!!” he laughed awkwardly, far too loud to be casual. “Those are -- um -- just practice, you know?” he said, his tone not even remotely close to convincing.</p><p> </p><p>Yamato wasn’t really sure how to respond. “Practice?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah!” Mitsuki nodded emphatically. “I’ll probably give some to the staff at the live today, too…”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato smiled. “That’s just like you, Mitsu.”</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki seemed to relax at that, and his shoulders dropped as he exhaled with relief. He must have thought that Yamato had bought whatever he was trying to play off, and Yamato didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to embarass him further, but also...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Chocolates, for Valentines day. Important enough to make Mitsuki flustered. Yamato felt a pang of jealousy for someone he didn't even know, because those important chocolates certainly weren't for him. And he didn’t think he cared to know who they were actually for.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The Valentine’s live went well. Better than that, actually. The crowd was enthusiastic, and during MC breaks, their bantering earned a lot of laughs and cheers. And despite Yamato’s deep dislike of being the center of attention, he smiled when Mitsuki and Nagi ran backstage and brought out his birthday cake, right at the end of the live, where the other members encouraged the audience to serenade him. He accepted the spotlight bashfully, and gave his sincere thanks to everyone for their support. </p><p> </p><p>Backstage, after the show, Mitsuki cut and plated the cake for everyone, even setting aside parts for the staff as thanks. Yamato ate his (generous) slice with a smile, watching Mitsuki go around shaking hands and chatting with everyone. The fluffy sponge melted on his tongue, sweet and light, and wow, there was no doubt that Mitsuki was a professional. He seemed to outdo himself every time, improving each month with every cake he baked. Yamato didn’t think he’d ever get tired of tasting Mitsuki’s work.</p><p> </p><p>Without permission, his mind drifted back to the incident from earlier that day. Those chocolates he’d tried so desperately to pass off as nothing. Yamato hadn’t seen them since. Hadn’t Mitsuki’s excuse been that they were supposed to be for the staff? Yamato’s smile faltered. If they really weren’t there, then Mitsuki had definitely lied about their purpose.</p><p> </p><p>No. Yamato shook himself from those thoughts. Mitsuki had done so much for him already, it wasn’t his place to be snooping into things he’s obviously trying to keep private. Even if it made the ache in his chest just a little bit more prominent.</p><p> </p><p>Once they arrived back at the dorms, Yamato was bombarded with gifts from his six friends, feeling now a little bashful about it. It was only his birthday, after all - surely he didn’t deserve this much. And after a long group hug (initiated by none other than Riku, of course), he sent everyone to their rooms, as he knew they were all exhausted from the live. It was getting later into the evening, and he’d watched the sunset from the car window as they returned home. </p><p> </p><p>Reclining on his chair, he stared up at the ceiling, only the faint whirring of his roomba to be heard at all. He didn’t even need to clean up, but he liked having it on, just to give him some illusion of company when he was alone. And he was feeling especially uneasy, even after the day he had. Because he was thinking about those god damn chocolates again.</p><p> </p><p>“What should I do, Musashi…” he mumbled, out loud, as if the robot could hear him. “I know I should keep my nose out, but…”</p><p> </p><p>‘But what’, the roomba’s silence seemed to say. Yamato sighed, closing his eyes. “A part of me wants to know, and a part of me really, really doesn’t. I think I’m just being selfish. Aren’t I selfish, Musashi?”</p><p> </p><p>Again, the roomba said nothing. Yamato was about to scold it for being judgy when he heard his phone vibrate twice from where he’d thrown it onto his bed. He debated for a while whether to actually check it, but he felt Musashi staring at him, so he pulled himself off his chair and grabbed his phone from his bed. When he saw who the message was from, he didn’t regret it.</p><p> </p><p>11:34pm</p><p>Mitsu</p><p>Could you come through to the kitchen for a sec?</p><p>If you’re not asleep already</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen? He tapped out a quick “sure thing” and made to leave his room, but hesitated. He felt himself becoming more nervous. Was it about that morning? Did Mitsuki know that Yamato knew he was lying? Or maybe it was just something benign, and he shouldn’t be worried at all. He sighed, shook off the worry, and headed to the kitchen area, walking softly down the corridor to not disturb the others.</p><p> </p><p>Cracking the door open quietly, he stepped inside, and there Mitsuki was, just like he had been the night before, minus the apron and baking supplies. Mitsuki looked up as he came in, but his expression wasn’t as enthusiastic as before. He looked… nervous. Ah. A fizzing anxiety started to bubble in Yamato’s stomach. Of course it wasn’t going to be good.</p><p> </p><p>“Yamato-san…” Mitsuki greeted him. He was wringing his hands, clearly trying to calm his obvious panic, but it didn’t seem to be working for him. “Um, come in.”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato, not trusting himself to speak without his voice wavering, approached him, this time coming around the counter into the kitchen itself. He was only a few feet from him when Mitsuki started to ramble.</p><p> </p><p>“S-So, I didn’t… uh, I wasn’t sure how to say this, but, well, since you kinda… found out this morning, it seemed kinda stupid to hide it any longer…”</p><p> </p><p>As he said this, his eyes flicked left, then back to Yamato. Yamato followed where he’d been looking, and… Ah. Just as he’d expected. There was a small, neat package sitting on the countertop, a dark blue wrapping tied with a gold ribbon. Yamato would have said it looked expensive, had he not known it was handmade. There was a sort of tension in the air, when Yamato looked back at Mitsuki and met his eyes. How should he act? Should he play dumb, try to lighten the mood and, hopefully, calm Mitsuki down? Maybe that would’ve only irritated him more.</p><p> </p><p>“You made those, right?” said Yamato, trying to ease into the conversation. </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki nodded. “Yeah…”</p><p> </p><p>“You made them for someone. Like, romantically, not as a friendship thing.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded again. “Y-Yeah…”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato swallowed. I guess there’s no beating around the bush. “So, who are they for?”</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki’s eyes widened. “...Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re planning to give them to someone. You… were gonna ask for help or something, right?” Yamato said slowly, as if trying to remind Mitsuki of his own plan. “Like, you wanted to keep it secret, but I found out about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I- I mean…” Mitsuki stuttered. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected what Yamato had said.</p><p> </p><p>“Well…? Am I wrong?” Yamato gestured to the box.</p><p> </p><p>There was silence for a few moments, then Mitsuki… laughed. It wasn’t particularly joyful; it sounded like the surface tension keeping Mitsuki still broke. Mitsuki looked at the floor, and chewed on his lip. After a moment, he collected himself, and met Yamato’s confused gaze. “You’re pretty unobservant, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Mitsuki picked up the box of chocolates, and held it out to Yamato. Wait--</p><p> </p><p>“They’re for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato stared at the box, then at Mitsuki, then back to the box, his mind desperately trying to parse what was going on. “Me?” he asked, looking back up at Mitsuki. “You mean, to deliver them, or…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yamato-san.” Mitsuki’s voice trembled slightly, and Yamato could see now how nervous he truly was. But his eyes were determined now, set on getting his point across. “I made these for you. I’m giving you chocolates, on Valentine’s day.” He swallowed. “...Romantically.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” breathed Yamato.</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki let out a frustrated yell, sinking into a crouch on the floor and burying his face in his arms. “God, why is this so -- difficult!” he groaned. “Why are you so difficult?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I -- I’m sorry??” Yamato squawked, his mouth running on autopilot, as his mind wasn’t really…. there. His heart was beating thirty times a second, a steady heat spreading through his body from his chest as his brain echoed the word ‘romantically’ around his skull. He dropped to his knees, wanting to -- help? -- Mitsuki, but he could barely get the words “are you okay” out his mouth before Mitsuki was talking again.</p><p> </p><p>“Ughh, this is so hard.” he whined, muffled. “I’ve wanted to say this for so long, and I finally get the chance, but you just -- you have that face, and that voice, and I can barely get my words out!!” Yamato could see the tips of Mitsuki’s ears burning red, and felt it mirrored on himself. “You’re so stupid.... Stupid old man…” he mumbled. “I’m an idiot, too…”</p><p> </p><p>Yamato reached out and put a hand on Mitsuki’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Mitsu. Mitsu, you’re not an idiot.” he said. </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki raised his head slightly, peeking out from behind his arms. “I am, though…This was a dumb idea. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I expected... “ His gaze fell to the floor, embarrassed. “You can reject me if you like. We can just pretend this never happened.”</p><p> </p><p>"Mitsu… just listen, okay?" His hands trembled. He hoped Mitsuki didn't notice.</p><p> </p><p>When Mitsuki gave no reply, Yamato took a deep breath, and began. “Mitsuki." God, my palms are already sweaty. "You're incredible. Stubborn, too, but that's who you are. And you're one of the kindest people I've ever known. You're funny, and handsome, and…" He nervously wets his lips. "You… you have no idea how much you mean to me."</p><p> </p><p>Yamato laughed shakily. He reached out and took the box from Mitsuki's hand -- Mitsuki seemed surprised by it, like he'd forgotten he was holding it. "I'd be an idiot to not accept something like this from you."</p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki watched him, anticipating his next words, wearing a bashful expression that made Yamato's heart hammer in his chest. If Mitsuki can say it, so can I. "What I'm trying to say is… I love you." </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki inhaled sharply. "Yamato-san..." he breathed, eyes wide and fixed on Yamato. </p><p> </p><p>Yamato gave him an embarrassed, lopsided smile. "It's… I know I'm not… ideal, but– If you want to give it a try… I'll do my best." </p><p> </p><p>"Can I kiss you?" </p><p> </p><p>"Eh?" mumbled Yamato. Now it was his turn to be surprised, his face turning red. "Wait– isn't this a little–" </p><p> </p><p>As a smile spread across Mitsuki's face, he let out a giggle, and without warning, he had grabbed fistfulls of Yamato's shirt and tugged him closer, their noses bumping together as Yamato fell to his knees. Yamato tried to stutter something out, but Mitsuki was laughing, and as usual, Yamato was captivated. Carefully, he rested his hands on Mitsuki's waist, unsure where the borderline was yet, but wanting to hold him, to be as close to him as possible. </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki gazed at him affectionately, a look that sent Yamato's heart into a frenzy, effectively turning his brain to white static. "Thank you." he mumbled, and before Yamato could protest, he closed those few centimetres between them, and kissed him. </p><p> </p><p>Yamato would have gasped, had he the air to do so. Mitsuki's lips were soft, and Yamato couldn't decide if he was surprised by it, or if it fit him just right. He was gentle, but Yamato could feel his strength, the energy and passion he always had trickling into the way he kissed him, pressing forward and coaxing Yamato into lowering himself to the floor, Mitsuki in his lap. He could feel Mitsuki's smile against him, and couldn't help but smile back, like he always did. He let his eyes fall closed, allowing himself to be immersed in the bliss of the moment while it lasted, committing every moment to memory. </p><p> </p><p>Mitsuki pulled away grinning, his eyes shining with tears, and to Yamato it felt like watching a sunset. He glittered brightly in Yamato's arms, that addicting buzz of warmth seeping into him and filling up, making him dizzy with joy. </p><p> </p><p>"I love you, Mitsu." he whispered, and felt tears begin to prick at his own eyes. "I mean it."</p><p> </p><p>"I love you too, Yamato-san." Mitsuki cupped his face with his hands tenderly, and kissed him once more. "I love you."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ymmts rights! follow me on twitter @yamatomitsus &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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